


The emotions are subtle

by charons_boat



Series: spooky scary skeletons (or are they eldritch horrors?) [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dreams, Eldritch beings, M/M, Monsters in Disguise, Multi, Yoongi is a human, chan runs track, gay rambling, getting a taste of that Human Life, happens some vague time in the future, he's perceptive, implied Turning Into Eldritch Monster, mentions of other things I've written, the others are not, things from the past, which is kind of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charons_boat/pseuds/charons_boat
Summary: Yoongi wasn't quite surprised to find images of Chan on the internet originating hundreds of years ago.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Seo Changbin, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Lee Felix & Seo Changbin, Min Yoongi | Suga/Bang Chan, Min Yoongi | Suga/Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Min Yoongi | Suga/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Series: spooky scary skeletons (or are they eldritch horrors?) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023729
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21





	1. Chapter 1

There is a boy. His rich, dark brown hair is made of layers and layers of soft, featherlight ringlets. It looks silky smooth and soft as down, even when it's frizzy from humidity or static. It shifts prettily as he walks, artfully ruffled by stray breaths of wind. Most of the time, his hair falls over his strong, straight brows, dipping into his eyes. His hair, as near to a work of art as anything I've ever seen, is just as soft and playful as he is. His dark eyes sparkle when he laughs, dimples appearing on either side of his pretty, pinkish lips as he does. His nose is straight and strong, somewhat wide but every bit cute as a button. Sometimes--the few times I _actually_ see him--I just want to walk over and boop his nose as if he were a puppy; although, can you really blame me when he acts like a particularly excitable puppy most of the time? His full, vaguely heart-shaped lips soften out the set of his masculine face. If his cheeks were just that much sharper, it'd be easy to compare the structure of his face to that of a Greek statue carved in marble. The softness of his cheeks is what allows his dimples to shine through and what lends a childish charm to his handsome face. 

However, contrary to the youth in his face and the lightness of his attitude, his ears are lined with gleaming accessories and the fingers of his left hand reflect light off the chunky rings that sit there. His right forefinger holds one silver band, the middle one holding two. His clothes are usually black, and there are times when he looks downright beautiful; times when the sun shines in his eyes and turns them a warm, caramel brown, when he's smiling and laughing with such genuine mirth that you can't help but see the beauty hidden beneath his muscular, well-exercised exterior--it's a beauty that comes from within. There are also those rare times when he purposefully wears delicate clothes that emphasize his slender frame and artfully ruffles his hair on his own with the addition of gel so it'll stay, and he adds soft colors to his skin and paper-thin traces of black around his eyes. 

Rarely does Chan look hard and harsh with a face so mean that there's no room for mercy in any part of his expression. Those times only come when Bang Chan decides to partake in a fight, be it on behalf of a friend or to defend those who are weaker than himself, or when he's running. Because Chan--as if being the paragon of natural beauty, easy camaraderie, and physical perfection weren't enough--also holds the school records in just about every track event. His bountiful energy knows no bounds whatsoever, easily allowing him to run cross-country and still participate in events such as relay racing, the 100 meter dash, and running the mile. His record mile time is so fast that _I GOT IT_ , an old but still popular song that my older brother had shown me, plays for another ten seconds after he skids to a stop with his hands on his hips. Watching Chan run brings about another sort of admiration. It's what brings pretty girls and awestruck boys to watch him at track practice, eagerly waiting to see his serene face and sweat-dappled brow, the girls looking to see the Chan's dampened curls, the boys looking forward to see how much exhaustion Chan will let himself show. I severely question whether anyone will ever surpass Chan after he graduates. 

Every freshman idolizes Chan, and every senior is held to his standard. Besides being easy-going, eternally cheerful, and physically adept, Chan is also incredibly smart. He doesn't have to put too awful much effort into anything to excel at it, but he's always plenty happy to assist others in any way he can. He learns in the blink of an eye and has this uncanny way of explaining things so that they just _make sense_. His confident, self-assured voice, smooth as cream when he talks and made all the more alluring by his slight accent lend a strange quality of truth to his words, whether it's a genuine explanation or an on-the-spot fabrication.

When I ask him why he's always that tiniest bit blurry, even just standing still, he gives me a good-natured grin and ruffles his hair. He looks almost sheepish as he answers, "Ah, well... I've noticed that you've worn glasses a few times, but it's been quite a while since I saw you wear them. Maybe it's just that?" His mumbled suggestion circulates through my mind for about two seconds before it's accepted as the proper explanation. I only think about the question and corresponding answer again later that night, when I take out my contacts. Nonetheless, I take to wearing my glasses again afterwards, and I find that Chan's blurry quality is greatly reduced. He sends me a few bashful glances the next few days, grinning softly to himself with the slightest tinge of pink to his rounded cheekbones. When I go to watch the track meet Saturday morning, leaning against the fence in the shadows of the bleachers, I make sure to wear my glasses. Chan catches sight of me just before he runs his first event, and I swear he goes just a bit faster today. Despite my glasses, though, he's also blurrier. Chan, were he to give an explanation, would say it's just my eyes being unable to keep up with how fast he runs. Some part of me doesn't quite believe that, but I can't think of any other plausible explanation. For a while I'd thought him a ghost, because surely someone could only be as pretty as Chan was in those certain moments when they'd already experienced and left behind the worst of life. Then, for another long while, I'd entertained the thought that he might be a vampire; however, he's out in the sun enough that his skin has a golden tan, and he's not terribly strong, just fast. 

Chan jogs over after his first event is called, Chan being the clear winner. Kids from the other schools sigh irritably at the now-common outcome. A couple of his closest friends catch him on the way over, stalling him for a moment. Felix, with his smattering of freckles and soft, auburn-orange hair, has the same accent that Chan does to his cavernous voice. Felix is sweet and gentle, like a ray of light. His loose clothes give away none of his petite figure. Jeongin's sharp-angled face and fox-like eyes lend him an almost exotic beauty. He's got braces on his pearly white teeth. His eyes are always vibrant with expression. He seems infinitely, almost intimately, closer to Chan than Felix does. Felix, obviously, is one of Chan's most cherished friends. The younger boy is treated like a younger brother, lovingly doted on and easily spoiled. Jeongin... it's something in the way that he leans ever-so-slightly closer to Chan, ghosts his fingers across Chan's bare fingers--he never wears his jewelry when he runs, maybe out of fear of losing something--that sends longing pinging through my chest, making itself a comfortable, aching home in my heart. Felix and Jeongin idle a few feet away, chatting softly to each other. I can see the way Jeongin keeps glancing towards Chan and I, always observing, somewhat protective or anxious. 

"Have your glasses been helping, Yoongles?" I blush at the nickname as I nod slightly. I still don't know where he came up with the ridiculous name, but it's one of the more normal. Chan has a knack for creating unusual nicknames like _Yoongs_ , _Yoongles_ , and _Nyoomgi_. I'm sure that in addition to the half-a-dozen he's already got for me, there's plenty of room in his creative mind for at least a dozen more. He leans closer, cocking his head to the side and smiling slightly. "Hmm?" There's a clear note of teasing to his voice, a hint of laughter in his fond tone. "I've noticed that you've worn them the past few days." I'd already known that he'd seen after his suggestion that they'd help get rid of the blurring that seems to sit about him like a cloak. I can't help but ask, though.

"You noticed?" I always sound-- _feel_ \--small next to Chan, but not in the way that I'm lesser than him. Rather, it's something to do with his presence. There's something almost... greater than humanity hanging about him. It's something I still can't figure out. Chan grins, reaching out to lightly run his fingers along the metal frames of my glasses. He's careful to keep his fingers off the lenses, but he drags his finger down my nose and lightly taps the end of it with a little giggle. 

"'Course I did," he exclaims with a gasp, almost as if he can't believe that _I_ don't believe he'd pay me so much attention. I'm about to ask him why he noticed, searching for any sort of viable explanation, but he beats me to answering my yet unspoken question by saying, "They look so cute on you! You look adorably nerdy with them on, all soft and kind. The way you squint at me as you try to get the blur away is so incredibly endearing." His smile is so sweet, his eyes filled with fondness, that I can't help but glance at Jeongin. The shock of hearing his murmur of, "precious little Yoomgi," brings my eyes back to his face. The next race is announced and Chan backs away almost regretfully. His friends walk over and whisper something to him. Just before he leaves, I reach out to catch his hand. My fingers curl back on themselves when I catch Jeongin's blank gaze. 

"Good luck." From the peculiar twinkle in his eye, I know Chan heard. Felix and Jeongin lean against the fence to either side of me, on the inside instead of the outside. Felix's delicate features are framed by his long locks of pretty orange, and being so close to him for the first time, I can see how young he looks. I'd expect Jeongin to glare at me, but he doesn't do a thing. All he does is glance indifferently at times, maybe a little curious, definitely a little calculated and analytical. This is the first time I've been so close to Jeongin as well; never before had I realized just how vulpine Jeongin's features are. His sandy blond hair has gentle waves in it and his ears are just the slightest bit pointed, though that's somewhat hidden by the rings he has around the shell of his ears. His lobes are weighed down with golden hoops accented with a few tiny bits of a shimmering red stone that reminds me of red and gold glitter condensed into a gem. 

"You think Changbin is cheering for him," Felix asks quietly from his place on the left. Jeongin sends him a sharp glare from the corner of his eye. He crosses his arms and furrows his brows, carefully watching the other students lining up alongside Chan. The relay race is about to start, and Chan is the last runner on the team. I think it might be more for the convenience of the other students, just so that they don't have to worry about trying to get out of Chan's way fast enough as he skids to a stop while still trying to receive the baton. Jeongin is silent while he watches, gazing upon the scene in front of us. 

"If anything, Changbin is distracting everyone else," the blond says confidently. He sends another look to Felix and says, "You know that." Staring at the other runners and the crowd in front of us, I can't see anyone particularly distracting. There's no one shouting any unique comments, and no one has any bizarre clothing on. Even still, I can see that the kids from the other schools aren't quite focused--their brows are all furrowed and they glance about restlessly, like they're trying to find the source of a whisper in their ear. The kids from our school are all laser-focused, none more so than Chan. The starting shot goes off and the other three lines of kids hesitate to start running for a moment, giving Moonbin a head start of a few feet. One of the other students even trips, but he pushes himself back to his feet quickly. Moonbin passes the baton, and the second kid takes off. I don't know his name, and in fact I only know Moonbin because Jinho knows Lee Chan, who's dating Moonbin and Kevin, a particularly... _unique_ cheerleader. I spot Kevin and Lee Chan standing off to the side, shouting vaguely inappropriate comments to Moonbin, who still hasn't moved from where he passed the baton to the second runner. The teams are all on their third runners already, and it's a close race. It almost seems like one of the other schools might win, until-- well, until the baton is passed to Chan.

The moment he has the red baton secured in his hand, Chan takes off like a bullet. I swear there's no way he should be able to go so fast as soon as he starts off, but within moments, the kids who'd gotten their batons near the same time as Chan are far surpassed. They all run as hard as they can doing their best to secure a spot in second place. Chan's face is filled with deadly-sharp concentration, almost filled with anger as he runs. Anger doesn't look good on the brunet. However, the moment the finish line comes into view, his eyes widen in shock and he leans backwards as his shoes skid against the loose rubber of the track. He falls over himself, tripping in a way that looks painful. He's already won the race for our school, and in the past he would've been surrounded by members of the team already. By now, though, they're used to the wins he brings, and so Chan sits half-sprawled out, somewhat dazed on the track. After a moment his mouth moves, saying something, but I don't recognize the shape of his lips as a language I speak. Before I can wonder about it anymore, he shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet, brushing bits of rubber off his legs. I can see the bright red traces of his legs rubbing against the track, slight road rash that'll likely fade within a couple of days. He jogs over with a satisfied smile on his lips, cringing as the soundbox announces, _"Another win by Christopher Bang Chan!"_

"God," he groans, the word more accented than it normally would be, "I hate it when they do that. I'm not the only one who ran that race." Jeongin smiles softly, maybe a little amused, _definitely_ a little fond and proud. He reaches out a hand and Chan takes it easily, winding their fingers together. It makes me feel guilty when longing shoots through me again, guilty for wanting to be part of it when they're clearly so happy already. Felix glances at me, sighing when he sees my expression. 

"You guys are making Yoongi feel sad," he says quietly. I blush profusely and immediately turn to stare at him in shock. A pair of lips press against my cheek, lighter than a feather, and when I turn, I find it wasn't Chan. My jaw drops when I realize that _Jeongin_ had just kissed me. His lips aren't as thick as Chan's, but they're soft and just as pretty. Chan reaches out and gently closes my mouth, his slender fingers cradling my jaw as gently as if it were a piece of expensive lace. He intertwines his fingers in my hand just like he's doing with Jeongin. His hands are warm and dry, that raspy softness that worn paper has. Chan stays for a while, holding our hands gently. He only runs off when his next event is called, and he kisses the both of us; he very nearly lands the kiss on my lips like he had Jeongin, and I'm too stunned to wish him luck again. He doesn't need it, though. Chan's too fast to be caught.


	2. Chapter 2

It's when we're doing a research project on cold cases and missing persons that I remember my very first impression of Chan. It had been that he looked familiar. I stare, enamored, at the video on my screen. According to the original post (it was put up on various platforms, but I found it on the old Twitter account of the man who'd been reported missing in the first place), it was created as a memorial and as a way to familiarize people with the missing man's face. The video consists of images and short clips of the man smiling and laughing, and a few more serious shots. The man is blond in the majority of the video and his hair is straighter, but the resemblance is uncanny. The memorial video I've found on a Twitter page that's hundreds of years old is dedicated to a man from Australia named Christopher Bang. Looking through his posts, it was obvious that he went by the easier, more Korean name of Chan. The man in the video looks... exactly like the Chan I know, except that he's missing the blur. I even take my glasses off, but there's no blur in the video. Going through the selfies posted on the account--the Chan who'd run the page had been a fan of Blackpink and Twice and had participated in a lot of selca days--there's not a single photo that's blurry without having been taken that way on purpose. The smile is the same, framed by those dimples. The eyes aren't quite so bright and the hair isn't near as dark, but it's curly and frizzy in the same way. There had been a long period of inactivity from the account followed by three posts: one, presumably, from Chan himself, saying that he was okay; one, likely from his friends, saying he'd gone missing and detailing who to contact if there was any news of him; and the last one, the memorial video meant to help with identifying him. 

I click back into the tab about the declassified missing persons case from the police department. According to the report, Chan's phone had been left in a friend's apartment and he'd taken his friend's car and driven it into the desert. His friends had reported him missing the next morning, telling the police he'd just recovered from a long string of sickness. His phone, full of recordings, had been turned over to the police. The recordings were of Chan himself, either asleep or awake, ranting or babbling about or to various beings while he was sick. When I read the names and brief summaries of the chief beings Chan had mentioned in the report, my heart skipped another few beats. The man I'd found resembling _my Chan_ , that I'd been able to brush off as a coincidence. But seeing the names of Felix and Jeongin in the report made me feel almost sick. By the time the car had been found, it had already been three days. Beyond the car in the desert, there was no sign of the missing man. The memorial video was posted around the time the car was found. But then, when the police tried to return Chan's phone to his friends... well, the report said they'd responded with confusion, claimed they didn't know who Chan was, and asked that the police either drop the case or stop contacting them about it. And that was it. The case went cold, no further leads found, and Chan was presumed dead. The last addition to the report was done in pen, scrawled messily on the bottom of the last page of the PDF. It says that the community had bought an unofficial gravestone and set it up where the car had been left, just behind the only set of footprints left in the dirt. They'd filled the shallow footprints with concrete so they wouldn't be worn away. It baffled me that the missing man's friends had done so little, to the point that it was the community who put up his gravestone. 

I quickly research a different person, desperate not to cause any trouble for Chan. Right now, the most likely explanation in my mind is that Chan is secretly a vampire and that the vast majority of the stereotypes about them are wrong. If it's the truth, it's not something I want accidentally broadcast to the entire class. I write the new project as quickly as I can, turning it in seconds before the bell rings. I follow the old account and bookmark one of the tweets, quickly typing the coordinates of the gravestone into my memos before packing my things away and leaving the room. Chan and Jeongin meet me outside; I nearly jump out of my skin and barely hold back a scream when Chan catches my arms in his hands because I'd been looking towards the ground, still thinking about the centuries-old report. Chan immediately notices my shaky expression, but Jeongin beats him to asking. 

"Yoongi? What's wrong?" Jeongin rarely shows concern like this, and it pierces straight through my heart. 

"Nothing, just-- we, uhm, did a research project about cold cases. It uh, it got to me, I guess. I-I'm glad you two are here." I feel guilty for hugging them to hide my expression, but then suddenly, I can't remember what was bothering me. I pull back and smile softly at them. 

"Better now," Chan asks quietly. I nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. Jeongin goes right for the prize, pressing his kiss full against my lips. They enter the classroom I'd just left, and I quickly walk to my next class. I don't think about the project again until I find a tweet from a stranger in my bookmarks. I scroll through the account, looking at every picture and every tweet. Every bit of it reminds me of my Chan, except for the glaring lack of blur and the absence of Felix and Jeongin. I still haven't learned who the one-time mentioned Changbin is, but I'm sure he's got something to do with it. My attention keeps faltering, my fingers pausing as I send the group chat with Chan, Felix, and Jeongin a message. _wanna skip tmrw? i found a cool place for a trip :P_ I get enthusiastic responses. I can't help but feel like I forgot part of the message I was going to send. 

That night, I dream of something I'd forgotten entirely. Before the school had started, I'd been plagued by a strange figure. It had always stayed to the corners of my vision or moved so fast that it was only a blur. I had never been able to see it clearly, had never seen the face it wore. The figure had left only small figurines when it had flashed past my field of vision. In my dream, the figure does more. It allows me small glimpses, showing more and more of itself as the dream stretches on. And then, suddenly, everything in the dream halts. The vague people who'd been passing by on the street halt in their paths. The cars cease to move, and only I am left moving. I move out of the static crowd, feeling claustrophobic, and walk into the street. I am alone for one... two... three seconds, and then the blurred figure skids to a stop in front of me in a heart-achingly familiar way. I take in Chan's grinning face, the smile a teasing one that I'm used to, and his wind-tangled hair. It's a familiar brown, not the foreign blond of the pictures and videos on Twitter. I'd never seen his hair truly tangled, but then again, it seems Chan had never truly moved as fast as he could. I blink, and suddenly the cars in the dream are moved so that they've already passed me no matter where they were in my path beforehand. It seems that maybe Chan can move faster than time. If everything else is stopped, though, does it really count as moving faster than time? Or is time still running, even with everything but myself and him stopped?

"Seems like you've caught up to me, huh?" The dream takes over and all knowledge of the Chan from school is gone. All that is left is the Yoongi of the summer, the one who spent months trying to track down whatever thing was chasing him about and hiding at the very edges. The man in front of that Yoongi is beautiful, a teasing menace, the final prize of months of work and wishing. The Yoongi of the summer grins, nodding boldly. Time begins to move again as that Yoongi steps forward and steals a kiss from the panting beauty. Chan had finally tired himself out, found somewhat of a limit to his endless energy. I know it's just a dream, and that no matter what Chan, Jeongin, and Felix are, the three weren't truly in it. The dream is nothing but a summer tale, and I leave it behind as quickly as waking. 

I dress in a hoodie and jeans, pulling a beanie over my mint-green hair at the last second. The three of them are already waiting for me at Chan's apartment, quickly piling into the car. When Felix excitedly asks where we're going, I glance at him in the rearview mirror. It might be a trick of the eyes, but by the time I look back at him from turning on the radio, his hair has grown a bit longer. There are faint curls in the ends for just a moment before they straighten out again. I keep driving, on and on, towards the desert and it's gravestone. A glance in the rearview once more, towards Jeongin this time, shows the black and red stains of the mix of liquids dripping from his eyes. He exhales, and a wisp of smoke drifts out. When I look at Chan, he's blurrier than ever. Between us is someone I've never met. He's got black hair and a longish face. He's handsome. It must be Changbin. He turns to look at me with pitch black eyes and smiles, sending an amused glance to Chan. 

"You know, Chan, I recall a very similar situation. Does it not seem familiar to you?" Chan doesn't answer, stares resolutely forward. His jaw clenches slightly. "A boy in a car, headed towards the desert. Though it's not nighttime this time, and there are more people in the car. He saw me just the same, though, and _he_ didn't screw up my face." Chan sighs and leans his head back. 

"He sees you as you are," comes Chan's simple reply. He laughs almost bitterly. "He's almost too good at that." Chan lolls his head to the side, looking through Changbin to me. He still smiles softly, though. "I love that he sees us." I blush despite myself, and we arrive all too soon. I park in the concrete lot and wait for everyone to exit. Changbin's boot-clad feet are translucent. Felix's hair wildly shifts length and his muscles begin to swell, just a bit. Jeongin's red and black tears fall unrestrained, and smoke spills from his mouth and eyes, spilling over his chin and cheekbones. Changbin, despite not being entirely here, stays the most normal of them all as we walk towards the desert. The chilly air seems to temper Chan's blurring. I stop in front of the gravestone and the concrete footsteps, taking a moment to read the worn stone block. 

_In memory of Bang Chan, 2020._ Chan laughs upon seeing it, turning to me. 

"You found me, didn't you? That's why you were so shaken up yesterday." I nod, and he sighs. "Did my friends put it up?" I bite my lip and shake my head. Chan looks confused and hurt, and then Changbin wraps a hand around his wrist, and the look is replaced with acceptance. "Right. I... forgot."

"I can't... figure out what you guys are." No one answers, and suddenly echoes of a voice ring through my head. _There's a god in my head, and he's taking my thoughts before I can think them! I just-- I need to tell you, before I forget-- I can't remember-- doesn't sound like a name a god would have..._ That voice, I know, is Chan's. The next line, though, that isn't Chan. It says _"If I play this, you can't go try to find them"_ and then Chan responds, _"I promise,"_ but I can hear the lie in his voice. "Gods," I murmur. Changbin nods slowly. 

"Once upon a time, we came to Chan's dream and he called us gods. Most people call us horrors. I lived in this desert first; I _died_ in this desert first, and became... this. I think it's punishment for thinking too much. Felix came next, but he was never human to begin with. He was already... like this. Too much, too big. You wouldn't believe how hard it was for him at first, for him to be... what he is now. This version of Felix, controlled, only one size--that only happened after... after Chan. But, after Felix came Jeongin. I don't even remember what he was, but it wasn't entirely human. He became... well, we'll show you in another dream, perhaps. Or maybe you'll join us one day." He sounds hopeful, but clearly ready for disappointment. "And then Chan. The first person smart enough to record himself. The first person fast enough to find me. Trying to catch his thoughts was like catching fish with your bare hands. You're a close second, Yoongi. Chan left his phone and his friends, so they put out a missing report before... before I took away their memories of him." Changbin sounds sad and guilty as he looks to Chan. His eyes light up with a sudden thought, and I wonder whether it was his own or someone else's. "Chan, your friend, Jisung... I meant to tell you, but he ended up becoming an idol. You told us he'd wanted to do that before you left. He went by--"

"J.One, I know," Chan says quietly. "I hear his songs all the time. Stop feeling bad about them, Changbin. I asked you to do that. They did well with their lives. I'm happy enough with that." He glances at me and smiles, something meant to be secret and private. "Besides, if I hadn't joined you guys, Felix would still be having his troubles, and Innie would have ten fingers amongst three arms, and we'd have never met Yoomji." I smile and let the name pass, even though it's one of the more ridiculous ones. Chan's smile sobers a bit as he looks back to me. "Yoongi, I think you're special enough that-- that if you stayed here, stayed in the desert, you'd..."

"Yeah," I murmur. They all stay silent, staring at me, waiting. "Someday. You haven't even properly kissed me yet, Chan."

He fixes that particular complaint rather quickly and very well. Afterwards, we go back home and the desert isn't mentioned anymore. We just continue in school, and I laugh at the obvious, glaring signs of their true nature. Changbin transfers in, finally having found someone fast enough to carry him about, and someone keen enough to see him in truth and help others see it too. For years and years we go about, having our fun and doing meaningless things. When the time comes--when the sky is darkened by an eclipse--we slip into the desert and hope for my death, for my birth. I never get to figure out whether it works. The Yoongi of summer stays locked in dreams with the blurred figure, and the Yoongi of afterwards stays locked in his loop of love and friendship and the best years of his life. The Yoongi who comes from the desert--he learns a new way to live.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twt @sunwooseok_


End file.
